


There's No Place Like Kahn

by BunKnits (AllergicToCocoa)



Series: Of Dungeons and Things... [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Explicit Language, Multi, depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:50:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7515818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllergicToCocoa/pseuds/BunKnits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the novelization of a small group of individuals' D&D shenanigans. The world that is being played is homebrewed.  We are, however, using 5e rules and some of the published adventures content to help shape our world and campaigns. So the story crosses over into original work and fanfiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Place Like Kahn

**Author's Note:**

> All rights to the original characters presented are reserved by me.

     There was much to be said of traveling at midday in a barren dessert. It was a miserable journey that most cringed at making. Especially, when the destination was Flame Crest, the capital city of the Phoenix Empire. The Phoenix Empire. A country infamously known for its dictatorial king, his zealous fervor for keeping the human race “pure”, and his blaspheming ways of spearheading the ideology that the gods did not exist. However, there were some who were undeterred by the country’s heretical ways. For one reason or another, they found themselves drawn to the metropolis.

     Scorching rays of sun beat upon baked and cracking red earth, sending up shimmering waves of heat. Sand was kicked up by worn wooden wheels of a seven caravan long convey. The gritty substance caked the mouths of those who sat upon the hard caravan benches. Despite the middling size of the caravans only a handful of individuals filled each, most of the room taken up by wares imported from other continents.

     Within one of these caravans sat the oddest grouping of individuals that could only be found in a convey such as this. The four individuals, sheltered from the raging sun by a canvas top, sat in a strained silence. Itchy with nervous energy a young half-elf stole furtive glances at her companions before her gaze returned to her lap, her feet peeking in and out of view as she gently kicked them. Her stolen looks had revealed little, only that she sat with a human, dragonborn, and a tiefling.

 

     Across from the twitchy half-elf sat a quiet, contemplating dragonborn. A few years older and possessing a more steady disposition, the male dragonborn serenely studied those around him. A fetching brown, with an underlying red, skinned tiefling sat adjacent from him on a bench that lined the other side of the caravan. Despite the presumed demonic proclivity that the race possessed, the woman appeared very much the antithesis. Her head was studiously bowed over a worn tome, silky raven black hair obscuring most of her facial features. The woman’s tail peacefully curled beside her.

     Rekarious’s gaze slid back to the half-elf only to be caught by a flash of colored light, cutting his appraisal of the lass short. Drawn by the light, his attention turned to his left to see a finely boned hand drumming lightly. Eyebrow scales raised in interest, the dragonborn scrutinized the source of the light that adorned the fair skinned appendage. It was a ring, elaborately gilt in what appeared to be a high grade yellow gold. The gold wrapped up and around a luminous ruby colored gem, which was easily the size of a large quail’s egg. Intrigued by the obvious display of wealth Rekarous tilted his head to take in more of the human.

     The human was male, in his early thirties. He sat ramrod straight with a bored indifferent look upon his regally chiseled face. His facial features were those seen on many high borns of his kind, high cheekbones, stern nose, and a strong jaw. An odd patch of red hair, that humans liked to call a goatee, sprouted just below his thin lips. His mane, the same odd shade of flaming red, was severely tied at the nape of his neck. Despite the oppressive heat, the man had a rich silken cape draped about his shoulders that ran past his waist. The cape was big enough to just partially cover an elaborately decorated chest that was tucked into the human’s side. It was upon the chest’s lid that the bejeweled hand tap-tapped against. It was the only common departure that the regal man showed.

     “What’s eatin’ ya bub?”

     Despite the odd turn of phrase, the voice was friendly, almost helpful sounding even. As if the speaker wished to help by allowing the human to unburden themselves through talk. It seemed that Rekarous was not the only one who had noticed the human’s agitation. The human removed his indifferent gaze from the spot that it was airily staring at before loftily turning to the half-elf.

     A surly turn of his nose upward and curl of his lips the man replied, “What is it to you?”

     Taken aback and more than a little embarrassed by the man’s response the half-elf’s gaze slitted into a glare. Her open manner was easy to read.

     “Just trying to be friendly.” She mumbled with no small amount of venom.

     Altogether done with the half-elf, the human turned his gaze back to nothing, effectively dismissing and ignoring the lass. Feeling more than slighted and annoyed the half-elf turned to her bench companion.

     “How about you? What brings you to the city?”

 

 

     Talithea tried to desperately catch the tiefling’s gaze as it flickered up from a worn page.

     “Books.” The reply was soft.

     Determined to get more out of the woman the half-elf tried again.

     “What types of books?”

     “Plants...And animals…” The tiefling turned back to her book for a second before she timidly asked, “H-how about you?”

     Excited by the interest, Talithea jumped a little in her seat in happiness before cooing, “There is this most fascinating weaving technique that the Khanins have created. They are able to spin metal so fine that it can be used to create the lightest of chainmail shirts. When it’s done, it looks like a normal woven shirt and does not have the chained links. It has all the durability but none of the weight of your normal chainmail-” Realizing that she was forgetting herself, Talithea cut herself short. No one wanted to hear her gush over her occupation.

     “Talithea.” The half-elf supplied helpfully.

     “Nemeia.” The tiefling responded with a small, warm smile.

 

 

     Smile fading from her lips Nemeia became aware of a slight presence. The dragonborn male was interestedly leaning forward in his seat. He had obviously been watching the exchange between herself and the half-elf. More than a little unnerved by the golden reptilian gaze Nemeia shrunk back a small “Neee” slipping from her lips.

     “Hello.” The dragonborn’s voice was deep and rich, reverberating deep within his chest. He opened his mouth as if to continue to only be cut off by a tanned hand being thrust through an opening in the canvas cover that served as a window to the caravan’s occupants and the driver.

     “Delay’s on the horizon. Looks like we’rra goin’ to be a couple more hours ‘afore we reach Flame Crest. There looks like we might be gettin’ caught up inna sand storm thatsa headin’ our way.” The driver shouted over the din of the rolling wheels and clopping of horse feet.

     The human’s countenance seemed slightly ruffled.

     “What do you mean by a delay?” He snapped haughtily. “I was due in the capital yesterday. We better not be delayed another day.” The human spluttered incoherently for a second. “You do not understand. I have important business with the King.”

     The human’s hand reflexively stopped its drumming to lay flat upon the chest with his statement. Nemeia’s tailed curled in interest at the movement and the man’s statement. Peering up through her eyelashes she studied the man for a few moments. There was something familiar about him that nagged at the back of her mind. It was his face. She knew that she had seen his face somewhere in one of the many books that she had read. In spite of having read every book in every city that she had visited it was hard to say which.

 

 

     In hopes of distracting the man’s ire Rekarous tried to engage the human in conversation. There were a few details about the man’s appearance and statements that he found intriguing whilst raising a handful of questions.

     “You seem to be a man of much importance. It is surprising to see one, such as yourself, alone.” _Especially, when one is unarmed._ Rekarous added to himself.

     Seeming to need the distraction, the human honestly responded.

     “I lost all of my companions. My last five, the day after last. We had been ambushed by a great creature. We were riding back to the city when it caught us. I was knocked from my horse while it descended upon them. I heard their screams and the crunching of bones. I am not certain of what happened to them for I left to ensure that the King gets his treasure.”

     “Did you not stop to check?” Rekarous asked, his voice pitched an octave deeper in dismay.

     “I did not.” The human simply replied.

 

 

     Surprised by the man’s confession and more than a little intrigued by the dragonborn’s ability to get the human talking, Talithea found herself eavesdropping on the conversation.

     “By the gods, you wandought! Why did you not stop to check on them?!” The words tumbled from her mouth, hostility wrapped thickly about the statement.

     Inwardly she cringed at her brazen action. Eavesdropping would have been frowned upon by the stately human. Speaking to him in such a manner would only invoke his ire.

     The human’s chest puffed out haughtily. “It was for the greater good. Have you not done something that you found worthy of sacrificing oneself for?”

     Talithea eyed the human suspiciously. “I sincerely doubt that. What you find to be of worth seems to be vastly different than my own.”

     The human’s face broke out into a mocking grin. “And who are you to judge such things? Surely you are no one of importance. Only a _half-elf_.”

     Blood boiling, Talithea’s hands curled into fists in her lap.

     “I judge well enough. I know godsdamn well enough how to take names and teeth.” The lass hissed.

     Talithea would have continued if it were not for the faint sounds of screeching and great wind gusts being churned by flapping wings reaching her ears. Disturbed by the sounds, she hopped down from the bench before rushing to the back of the caravan. With a hesitant hand she untied the bottom corner of the canvas flap, that served as an entrance, to where it was tied down to the caravan to shut out the world. Once untied she drew back the canvas flap, searching for the source of the sound. With a bit of straining Talithea could make out a large onyx fleck that was steadily gaining on the convoy. As it advanced the very life and air around the smudge seemed to wrap around it. Light began to compress upon the visage as if it were being eaten whole by the brume of shadows that were emanating from it.

     “I think the reaper is coming for us.” Talithea choked out in dismay.

     “What do you mean?” The human chirped in a demanding tone.

     Aggravated by the man’s tone she turned back to him with an acerbic look and a sharp gesture. “Look for yourself.”

 

 

     Nemeia watched as the human stood up from his seat to push Talithea out of the way to look out the caravan’s entrance.

     “No.” The man’s mutter was so soft that Nemeia was not sure if she had heard him at all.

     While the man stood transfixed, Nemeia cast her gaze towards the chest that he had been steadfastly guarding. It was smallish in size, only a few hands high and wide with a foot or two in length. Despite the unassuming size, it was intricately carved with winding scripts and shone from a high quality glazing. Gold leaf details were inlaid upon the chest in complicated patterns. There was nothing normal about the chest. Instead of the usual lock and key mechanism a large indentation, of where an item was to be pressed, was placed in the middle of the chest instead. Wanting a better look at the indentation, Nemeia crept forward. She stooped in front of the chest before running a light fingertip over the indentation.  Nemeia had read of such locking mechanisms. While they were sometimes simple in design only the object that been used to create the imprint could be used to unlock the chest. Upon the forging of the lock both the lock and the object used as a key would be spelled to ensure that only that object could be used. Even if a replica were created to try to take its place it would not work. An image of a great ruby ring that she had only paid a passing glance at flashed to mind. Nemeia glanced at the human, the ruby ring was still firmly in place upon his finger. There was no way for her to secret the piece of jewelry from his person in order to satiate her curiosity of what was in the elaborate chest. The hulking frame of Rekarous straightening from his sitting position had Nemeia scampering back to her bench. Back at her seat, she watched curiously as he made his way to where the human stood staring out of the caravan.

 

 

     The dragonborn’s brawny frame easily towered over the shorter human, allowing him to see over the man’s shoulder. Eyes slitted against the glaring sun, Rekarious’s gaze darted back and forth until it found the growing mass of darkness. Quickly his observations of the human and the other travelers, that he had caught a glimpse of when he joined the caravan, flitted through his mind’s eye. None of them were as strikingly out of place as the regal human.  Reaching a conclusion, Rekarous seized the human’s shoulder before spinning him around and thrusting him back to his seat at the bench.

     Rattled the human straightened his clothes with a shaky hand, “What was that for?”

     Rekarous gave the man a droll stare.

     “Whatever madness that is. It is obviously coming for you. I am not a complete simpleton to not be able to gather whatever it is that you are guarding so zealously within yon chest has drawn some sort of unwanted attention. Do you wish to be found sooner by it by standing out in the open?”

     The human spluttered in indignation before resentfully saying, “You know nothing.”

     “I godswell know enough.” Rekarous shot back darkly.

     Worry began to knaw at the pit of his stomach. Whatever that thing was, was coming with a vengeance. If he wanted to keep lives from being lost he would have to find out all he could. Now.

     “Tell me everything that you are hiding. Now.”

     Rekarous loomed over the human trying his best to intimidate the man. Time was of the essence and he did not have time to try to play to the man’s vanity in order to persuade him to speak the whole of the truth. The human gulped visibly before deflating in his seat.

     “That thing that is following us.” The human shot a look at the one named Talithea. “Half-elf you asked why it was that I did not stop to check on my men. That thing is why. It is beyond terrifying and powerful. That thing is what happened to my men.”

 

 

     A slight pressure of a looming headache caused by anger, blossomed in the back of Talithea’s skull. That was not a true reason for abandoning your mates. Nor did the human male fully answer the dragonborn’s demand for an explanation. She would bet a platinum piece that it had something to do with that swanky chest the human was guarding. Doubting that the human would be forthcoming anytime soon Talithea stomped over to the human. She flashed a quick fist out to hit him square in the jaw to knock him out. If he was not going to reveal what it was that he was hiding, then she would find out for them. However, before her fist could connect with the human’s face, an azure taloned grip caught hold of her wrist. Annoyed Talithea glanced back at the dragonborn.

     “If we want to make sure no one else dies, we have to work together.” Was the rumbling answer to the question of why she was stopped.

     Yanking her wrist out of the dragonborn’s talons Talithea huffed back to the open flap of the caravan to put distance between herself and the infuriating dragonborn with his logic. Her way would have been faster.

    

 

     Surprised by the dragonborn’s actions the human found himself speaking without thought.

     “Look I need your help. If you help me with this, if you help me with getting the chest to the king, I’m sure any number of wealth can be given to you. You would certainly curry favor with the king.”

     Nemeia studied the dragonborn’s face. She could have sworn that his scales looked pinched in irritation at the human’s words. Rekarous opened his mouth as if to say something. The human shook his head furiously.

     “You have to ensure that this chest and ring make it to the king.”

     As if to emphasize the point, Nemeia watched in wonder as the human drew the ring from his finger and pressed it into the dragonborn’s taloned one. The dragonborn studied the ring for a long moment, his face screwed in deep contemplation. With a grave look the he donned the ring.

     The air in the caravan seemed to shift with the dragonborn’s decision. Whether she liked it or not, whatever was about to happen Nemeia would should be swept up into it.

     No longer wishing to be left in the dark concerning the events that were unfolding, Nemeia leaned forward on the bench. Toll bells of warning began to ring in her ears the minute her amber gaze fixed on the blackened nebula.

     “Lychwyrm!” The word came out strangled and shrill.

 _No. No, no, no, nonono._ The monosyllabic word was the only thought that Nemeia could form. The creatures were supposed to be myth. Only ever found in the oldest of tomes with the vaguest descriptions. To her knowledge, none had lived through an encounter with them. It was either her terrified shriek or the depth of Nemeia’s despair and hysteria that were writ plainly across her features that spurred the dragonborn’s next actions. Nemeia watched numbly as he grasped the human about his shirt collar with a taloned hand.

     “If what Nemeia says is true, we need to know what is in yon chest now. Not only do our lives but the lives of the whole caravan hinges on what it is that you are hiding in it.”

     The human deflated before the tiefling’s eyes. All of his haughty bravado fleeing in the face of their impending doom. Realizing that the man was ready to talk the dragonborn let the human go.

     “It’s a relic that is important to the line of the Phoenix succession. If the King were to die, the Crown Prince would not be able to take the throne without it.”

     Doomed. They were utterly doomed. Nemeia let her head fall into her hands. Whatever this human and his king were playing at, it was going to get them killed.

 

 

     A stream of Draconic curses swept through Rekarious’s mind. Gods curse it, he needed to find a way to save everyone. Rekarous drew a hand over his scaled fringe.

     “What if we took the relic out of its chest? We could secret the object within one of the caravans. I can act as a decoy with the chest in plain view. The lychwyrm would leave the caravan unharmed.”

     “No!” The human’s reply sharp, seeming to have regained a bit of his composure. “The chest has a dampening field. There is no way that we can separate the two.”

     The caravan lapsed into a tense silence. Being confronted with one’s mortality was never a comfortable exercise.

     “You’re the king’s son?!” The proclamation was gasped out as if in a sudden realization.

     Startled Rekarous glanced to his right. Nemeia was sitting forward with a gaping look on her face.

     “Yes.” The human let out a low sigh.

     “Marius? Marius Gideon? Right.” Nemeia seemed slightly excited, as if she had solved a great riddle. “The king’s youngest. His only son to not share his exact countenance. Your siblings are all veritable doppelgangers of one another.”

 

 

     If Nemeia was going to continue her speech, she was not to have the chance. The caravan gave a mighty shake as great winds buffeted its sides. A dark shadow was cast on the caravan’s right hand side as the lychwyrm swept by. The rolling wooden structure joggleed precariously as the ground shook with a renting and roaring. Gripping the side of the caravan tightly Talithea tried to keep her feet. The canvas flap snapped warningly in the wind. If she were to lose her balance she would tumble out the back of the caravan and into the wheels of the caravan behind them. Eyes wide Talithea stared in disbelief as the thrashing canvas revealed that just beyond their caravan, the wyrm had created a crackling, roaring wall of miasmic fire. At the base of the wall of fire, the ground was ripped asunder with an ominous rattling reverberating from it.

     “We need to do something!” Talithea shouted over the din. Eyes slitted in thought, she looked the dragonborn up and down. Despite his large physique, he had proved that he had quick reflexes. “How nimble are you?”

     Apprehension filled the dragonborn’s face. “Decently nimble.”

     Satisfied Talithea nodded to herself. “Good. I’m a disastrous clod or else I would do this myself instead of asking it of you.” With a quick movement Talithea threw back the canvas to point at the caravan behind them. “I can cast a minor illusion. I need that horse attached to the caravan behind us. If you can get him free, I can make it look as if Marius is astride him.”

     Incredulity replaced apprehension. The half-elf almost felt a pang of sympathy for the dragonborn. She was not entirely sure if she was half-cracked herself for the idea. Despite her sure tone, she doubted very much her ability to complete the feat. The dragonborn took a few steps backward before inhaling deeply and rolling his shoulders experimentally a few times. Seeming to be satisfied, he strode forward in large steps, leg muscles pumping. His momentum quickly took him to the edge of the caravan. Not stopping, he launched himself out of the caravan causing it to shake once more. Breath held desperately Talithea watched as the dragonborn did the unthinkable. With a slight bowing of wood and swaying, he caught ahold of the caravan’s side. Nimbly he swung himself onto the bench seat next to the driver. As the dragonborn worked on releasing the horse Talithea readied herself.

     The half-elf checked her grip on the caravan before sliding her feet shoulder width apart. With her free hand, Talithea drew out the amulet that she kept hidden beneath her traveling tunic. She clutched the amulet before forcing in a shaky inhalation of gritty, hot desert air centering herself. Talithea screwed her eyes shut in concentration as she pictured a swirling, spiking ball of spessartine energy. Carefully she dipped into the ball. An insistent itch, as if she had accidentally sniffed a handful of pepper, filled her nostrils. Fighting the feeling, she drew out a wobbling tendril of magic. Tears spilling over her cheeks, Talithea snapped the tendril from the ball. Forcing her will upon the tendril, she struggled to shove the raw bit of magic into the amulet. Using the amulet as a center of focus she shaped the illusion spell. Opening her eyes, Talithea saw with satisfaction that her illusion of Marius had worked. Or at least it had partly worked. While Marius appeared that he was astride the horse the minor illusion had a five foot height limit, effectively cutting off the human’s lower half. Hopefully, the lychwyrm would be fooled.

 

 

     Nemeia did not know if she were foolish or brave. Either way, she had somehow found herself in the front of the caravan next to the driver. Foolish. Most definitely foolish. She had been swept up in wanting to help tame the ensuing chaos. It was from the front that she had watched the three backmost caravans beat a hasty retreat from the convoy, heading left away from the looming wall of miasmic fire.

     A tired puff of warm air brought to the caravan the sounds of a  sinister cacophony of clacking. The sound raised the tiny hairs on Nemeia’s arms, it did not bode well for her and her companions.

 _You can do this Nemeia. You can do this_.

     Chanting the mantra to herself, Nemeia unsteadily pushed herself to her feet. Head popping over the canvas top of the caravan the tiefling was able to see that the ever growing eerie rattling was caused by a horde of gangly skeletons pulling themselves from the depths of the unholy crack caused by the miasmic wall. A few clacking skeletons had shuffled close to their rolling caravan. A startled “eep” escaped from her lips when a boney hand appeared over the top of the canvas. A skeleton had boarded them.

_Get it off, get it off, get it off._

     Hands shaky Nemeia drew out her long bow. Notching an arrow to the string she drew it back with a sharp inhalation of air through the nose. Exhaling she let the arrow loose praying it found its target. The arrow smacked into the skeleton’s hand with heavy thunk. The bones flexed in surprise, relinquishing its grasp on the canvas. A pleasant glow of surprised happiness spread throughout Nemeia’s chest.

_I did it._

     The skeleton crashed to the dusty desert floor with a poof before being promptly trampled by a flurry of hooves and wheels. Gaze directed at the caravan behind them, Nemeia was surprised to see Rekarous on it fiddling with one of the horses. Confused Nemeia watched as the beast gave a toss of its head before lurching away from the caravan and taking off in the direction that they had started their journey. With a whoosh of wind, the lychwyrm took off after the horse that appeared to have Marius astride it. Trying to make sense of what she saw, Nemeia glanced back at the caravan. From the corner of her eye a movement caught her attention. The crackling wall of miasmic fire was beginning to end. They would be past the wall soon. A sharp dip in the road and a crashing pitched the tiefling sidewise. Frantically she scrambled to reseat herself.

 

 

     “I gotchya, you big lug.” Talithea hissed through clenched teeth.

     Rekarous grabbed hold of the half-elf’s tiny hand as she helped drag him back inside the caravan with a surprising amount of strength. With a wicked smile she stepped back towards the caravan’s opening to allow him more space. Chest heaving Rekarous fought to catch his breath. The lass was insane with her hairbrained ideas.

     The dragonborn stilled. A feeling of death, a slimy sticky sensation, crawled across his scales. Eyes sharp he glanced back at Talithea. The lass stood frozen. Her pointed ears gave the tiniest of jerks as if trying to catch the source of a sound. A fierce look crossed her face as she stretched out a hand. The slight crackling feeling of a magic spell beginning to be cast filled the air. Talithea’s nose wrinkled as if she had caught a whiff of a bad smell. The half-elf’s face crumbled before dropping her hand and promptly burying her nose into the crook of her arm. A flurry of sneezes sounded as the feeling of magic left. Rekarous gave Talithea a confused look. There was something awfully odd about the half-elf.

     The sickening feeling was pressing on Rekarous again. Picturing a shimmering blue veil surrounding his body, Rekarous opened up his senses. He cast out the veil to envelope the caravan. Three. There were three skeletons clinging to the caravan. A fourth presense registered on his senses. This one, however, did not possess the same sickening feeling. It was the slight touch of celestial being. Filing that information away for later, the dragonborn unclasped the trident that he strapped to his back.

     The skeletons needed to be dealt with now. With a decisive thrust through the canvas side, Rekarous struck the skeleton that lay just beyond. The canvas fabric tore leaving a small rent in the side. The skeleton screeched before slashing the tear open wider with a boney hand to allow it to pass into the caravan. With a surprising amount of grace the creature slid into the caravan. A slight glint of a metallic weapon was the only warning that Rekarous had before the skeleton lunged at him. The dragonborn stumbled back as the skeleton’s scimitar bit into his side. A bellow of rage and pain ripped from Rekarious’s lips.

 

 

     A guttural cry was the only warning that Nemeia received that trouble had befallen their caravan. Turning she glanced back into the caravan to see that a skeleton had boarded them. Frustrated that the infernal creatures had returned, Nemeia whirled back around. She drew out her long bow again. Notching an arrow, she leaned out over the driver’s seat to see along the side of the caravan. There another skeleton was clinging to the canvas side. The bony creature was trying to create a tear in the fabric to allow passage inside.

_I’m not letting you get in._

     Taking careful aim Nemeia shot at the skeleton. The arrow flew true. The sharpened metal of the arrow’s head sliced through the skeleton’s skull. The feather’s from the arrow’s shaft stuck out against the bone white of skull as the skeleton crashed to the desert floor.

 

 

     Talithea groaned as she wiped watering eyes. Blasted spell had fizzled. The half-elf had little time to dwell on her failure. Her attention was caught by Rekarious’s sudden flurry of action. With wide eyes she watched as the dragonborn struck the canvas side of the caravan. Confused Talithea shrunk back towards the flapping opening only to be stopped by the chattering of bones. She whirled around to face the noise. A skeletal head popped into view before the rest of its body joined it. One of the skeletons had managed to climb aboard. The bony creature was large, easily dwarfing the tiny half elf. With a gleeful twanking of bones, the skeleton swung at Talithea. The lass dodged the jerky attack, lunging to snatch up her quarterstaff. Once in hand, she gave the quarterstaff an experimental twirl before thrusting it at the skeleton’s rib cage. Jaw hanging opening in surprise the skeleton stared at Talithea with its blackened eye sockets. The skeleton shuddered in pain before it collapsed at her feet in a pile of crumbling ash and dust.

     Talithea planted her staff down to lean against it. Gasping in gulps of air the half-elf watched as Rekarous gave one last mighty thrust of his trident at the skeleton that he was engaged in battle with. Mortality wounded the undead creature cried out before it disintegrated. A look of happy relief was passed between the two. For now, they were out of danger.

     Their jubilation was fleeting. A warbling cry of frustration announced that the lychwyrm had discovered their treacherous illusion. Anger renewed, the lychwyrm’s wings beat ever faster as it tried to catch up with the fleeing convey.  Drawn by the noise Talithea found herself staring back out the canvas flap. In horror she watched as the sable wyrm screamed again before pouncing on top of the caravan behind them. The wooden structure crunched beneath the beast’s weight with a clamor of screams and snapping of wood and bones. Numbly, Talithea let the canvas flap fall back.

 

 

     “No.”

     Rekarious’s utterance was filled with a rumbling anguish and dismay. He had tried to keep everyone alive. Tried to keep people from dying. It was for naught. The ground gave a shuddering quake as Rekarous sensed the lychwyrm land heavily in front of what remained of their convey several hundred feet away. The caravan came to an abrupt halt. The horses stamped in pain and fear as their reins were pulled tight, causing their bits to drag hard against their sensitive gums. Rekarous leaned out of one of the rents in the canvas side to look at the pitch-black lychwyrm. The ghastly creature appeared to be in a gruesome state. Despite the onyx cast of its scales there was an ashen parlor to them. One its wings had a large split in the webbing. Along its side was a deep laceration that cut so deep into it that bits of exposed rib cage and intestine peeked out. Rekaris could not help but marvel at how the lychwyrm was able to move at all.

      Despite his grudging admiration, Rekarous was acutely aware that their doom was nigh. He fished around his sword belt for the horn he had strapped to it. With deft talons he quickly unknotted the horn. Once free he brought the horn to his lips to give a few short blasts. He could only hope that the looming city of Flame Crest, which lay just beyond the lychwyrm, would hear his call for help.

      “They won’t hear that.”

     Startled Rekarous twisted to see that Talithea was hanging out of another rip in the canvas speaking to herself. The charged static feel of magic filled the air as the half elf pursed her lips in concentration. Her nose twitched warningly a few times before a large blast of fire, aimed at an overhead nearby cloud, was released from a small palm.

     “They will see that.” Rekaris replied with approval.

     Talithea flashed him a quick smile. Rekarous turned back towards the lychwyrm. Just beyond the creature he sensed the same static feeling of magic. Except this bit of sorcery was charged tenfold compared to the half-elf’s.

     “You promised me.” Marius’s regal summons had Rekaris retreating back into the caravan. “You promised that this chest was going to make it to the king.”

     Rekaris gave Marius an appraising look. “I’ll make sure that you are the one to give it to him.”

     The dragonborn went to remove the ring from his taloned hand. Only to be cut off by a dismissive wave of the hand.

     “Make sure he gets it!” Was the human’s final demand that brokered no more argument before the chest was roughly pushed into his grip.

 

 

     A great roar ripped through the air. Talithea clapped her hands over her sensitive ears against the jarring sound. The grinding sound continued as the lychwyrm proceeded to speak.

     “Marius, belbau uns’aa l’relic dos nadorhuan.”

      Talithea’s eyes grew wide as she recognized that somewhere within the lychwyrm’s roar was a familiar sound. She could have sworn that it just spoke drow. A soft pulsation of shadowy light began to emit from the lychwyrm. The brume of blackened shadows quivered before it turned in on itself to envelop the lychwyrm. With a squeeze of the lychwyrm’s form the shadows fled to reveal that it no longer stood in front of them. Instead a regal drow was in its place. Despite the handsome royal cast of his features, the drow was marred by the same ghastly wounds as the lychwyrm.

_Impossible._

     Talithea had heard tales of such awesome displays of power, whispered retellings of elvin power that was long forgotten. She had never hoped, never imagined to see such a thing. Her heart leapt at the dismaying state of the drow. Something was not right.

     “Marius, give me the relic you coward!” The drow repeated.

     This time the drow’s words were not dwarfed by a deafening roar and were unmistakable. Eyebrows furrowed in thought, Talithea glanced behind them towards the direction the drow had first appeared in his lychwyrm form. He must have come from the vibrant green forest that lay behind the seaside port that she had arrived at when she came to the continent of Khan and the Phoenix Empire.

     Marius had lied. Talithea was sure of it. Turning back to the drow, she threw her arms open wide in friendly gesture.

     “Brother what is your grievance with this man?” Talithea waited for the drow’s reply with baited breath. She hoped that her gamble paid off. Not all full blooded elves found a kinship with their half-blooded cousins.

     “My sister,” the drow called back. A sigh of relief left Talithea. “That item that he has is not meant for humans. Give me Marius and the item. I do not wish to kill anyone else. I will leave you and your companions unharmed if you are willing to hand over both.”

     Talithea felt her eyes slit in anger. She would no longer be played by the human.

     “What is in the chest.” She asked first needing to know that if she were to betray the trusting and good dragonborn, it was not to be done without a great cause.

     “It is an old ancient elven artifact. It is a phoenix egg.”

     Lip curling in hatred Talithea pushed back into the caravan. She was ready to confront the lying bastard, Marius. Even if the drow had been twisted by an evil power hundreds of years ago, they were still at their core elves. They were still kin. What belonged to the elves should stay with elves.

 

 

     “We need to move now!”

     The yell was a rumbling growl from Rekarous. He was staring intently out the front window of the caravan. The sense of a strong magic heading their way had grown steadily stronger while Talithea spoke to the drow in elven. As they conversed he searched out the window to find the source of the feeling. Now Rekaris was able to see that it was generated by a large ball of light. The dragonborn rushed for the caravan’s entrance, the ball was going to hit them. Rekaris grabbed for the back of Talithea’s tunic as he passed her before dragging the half-elf out after him. Marius was ahead of them scrambling away from the caravan as fast as he could.

     Sand scrapped beneath their feet as the three adventurers and the prince fought to put distance between them and the oncoming danger. A whooshing roar and crackling had them stopping in their tracks. A large ball of fire, easily the size of a hut, was hurtling towards the caravan they had just evacuated. In horror they watched as the drow nonchalantly sidestepped the oncoming shot of fire before it plunged into the caravan. Cries of alarm escaped their lips as they noticed the driver being engulfed in flames as he frantically tried to free the horses. The ball of flame continued its path of death as it slammed into the two remaining caravans that had stopped just behind theirs.

     A loud trumpeting brought their attention back towards the drow. Behind him a large cloud of dust announced the incoming arrival of mounted reinforcements from Flame Crest. Eyes snapping in fury the drow called forth once more his army of skeletons. The boney creatures chattered gleefully as they pulled themselves up from the crack in the earth left by the wall of miasma. Jerkily they ran to their master’s side metal weapons glinting in the sun. A proud, crimson cloaked figure lead the charge of Flame Crest reinforcements. With a guttural shout and raised sword, he urged his troops forward to meet their undead enemy in a flurry of hooves and bones. The adventurers watched in awe as the man expertly danced his horse around attacking skeletons before slashing at them in retaliation causing they crumble away into dust.

     A sense of intense anger had Rekarous glancing down at the half-elf. A determined glint of her eye had his senses prickling. That was the same look she had before Talithea had tried to knock out Marius. Surely she was not fool enough to try again. The dragonborn groaned inwardly as he watched her take a step in the prince’s direction. With a silent apology, he swung a taloned fist at the lass’s head. Talithea dropped in a dead faint. Before she could hit the ground, Rekarous caught her about the waist before hoisting her over his shoulder.

     A few feet away a horse let loose a whiney of fear before it reared up and dropped its dead rider from its saddle. The horse lunged towards them. With a quick flash of reflexes Rekarous caught ahold of the horse’s flying reins as it dashed past them. Surprised by the sudden weight and pull, the horse instantly stilled in its tracks. None too gently the dragonborn slung Talithea across the horse’s back. He would deal with her later.

     Rekarous turned back his attention to the fight to see if there was any way he could help only to be disappointed. The regiment of Flame Crest infantry was ferocious. They were easily slicing through the drow’s army of skeletons. The army had the situation in hand. With a frustrated screech the drow shifted back into his dragon form before launching himself away from the conflict. There was no hope of him and his army of undead winning. With the retreat of their master, the skeletons lost their nerve. A number of them turned to flee. The Flame Crest soldiers held no pity. They easily ran down the skeletons leaving none alive.

     Satisfied that his men had the situation under control, the scarlet cloaked figure made his way over to the adventurers and the prince. As the man drew near, Rekarous could see that he wore a spectacularly plumed helm which was the same crimson color as his cloak. Stopping just before their small group, Rekarous was able to see that the man had a full beard and piercing amber eyes. Marius stepped forward before giving a low bow.

     “Father.” He said formally after straightening.

     Edric Gideon. Atop his warhorse, the man was imposing with his broad shoulders and long torso that hinted at him being of a great height. He possessed an air that expected and commanded respect. Rekarous found himself thanking the gods that he had knocked Talithea out cold. The dragonborn suspected that the tiny half-elf would not have taken kindly to the king.

     Edric gave his son a cool stare.

     “Did you complete the mission?” Was the king’s way of greeting.

     A slight look of hurt flashed across Marius’s face before he replied, “Yes. And the dragonborn here helped me. He was critical in keeping it safe.”

     Edric turned toward Rekarous. His flinty gaze flickered up and down the dragonborn a few times before turning back to his son.

     “Give me the chest.”

     With another bow, Marius explained that Rekarous was in possession of it. Impatiently, the king tapped his hand against the side of his leg.

     “Yes, yes. Give it here boy.” Edric demanded.

     Rekarious’s eyebrows furrowed at the king’s demeanor. He had half a mind to keep the chest from this impatient, ungrateful man. Alas, he had given his word to Marius that he would ensure that the king would receive the chest. With a bit of reluctance the dragonborn fished the chest out of his pack where he had stored it before handing it over to the king. A smug look of accomplishment settled over the king’s face before he whirled his horse around towards Flame Crest. Edric stopped a moment. He turned back to the small group.

     “I suppose you may all accompany us back to the castle.”


End file.
